Maybe It's Fate
by RomanoJet
Summary: Well, this is great. Just what Arthur Kirkland needed. A bloody elevator crash. And guess who's in there with him? One-shot. I don't own Hetalia and I can't write summaries. Rated T for cursing.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I dunno. I wrote this at around midnight, so don't expect it to be that good. I apologize if it resembles anyone else's work, I forget where I got the idea for this. I think on Tumblr or something. Also, it's **really** cliche. And a very short one shot. I'm going to bed. _

* * *

Maybe It's Fate

Arthur checked his watch for the umpteenth time, running his hand through his messy hair in irritation. The damn elevator at his work was taking forever to arrive, and he was running late, too.

After what seemed like forever, the elevator doors finally opened with a pleasant _ding!_

"Shut up," Arthur grumbled to it before boarding. He pressed the button for one of the top floors, and leaned against the back wall to wait. The elevator groaned to a halt at several floors. A few people got on, and most of them got off before Arthur reached the floor his office was at. As usual, Arthur cursed the fact that his cubical was on such a high floor. He honestly didn't trust the piece of crap they called an elevator to take him up there safely.

Finally, the last person disembarked. Arthur gave a sigh of relief; he didn't like being in a crowded space with so many people. Meanwhile, the elevator shuddered to a halt on the floor just before his.

When Arthur saw who was boarding, he facepalmed. "Oh no, not you!"

"Nice to see you too, _cher_ ," Francis, his co-worker and neighbour, said sarcastically.

"Sod off," Arthur muttered, silently urging the elevator to go faster. "I see enough of you at home; can't I escape you at work?"

Francis ignored him, looked at the ceiling worriedly. "Arthur, is it supposed to sound like that?"

"Like what, frog?" Arthur growled. He was late, he forgot his phone (as he had just discovered), and now he had to wait in a crowded space with _Francis_ of all people.

"It's making noises like it's going to fall..." Francis said uncertainly.

"It sounds like that all the time," Arthur scoffed. "It's really old; you already know that. Stop bothering me."

Just then, the elevator made an ominous creaking sound. The cable made a screeching noise, and the whole elevator tipped.

"Fuck!" Arthur swore as he hit the wall painfully.

Francis tried to reach the call button, but the contraption tipped again, sending him sprawling.

Arthur also tried to reach it, but another cable snapped, wobbling the machine dangerously.

"It's going to fall!" Francis cried. "Hit the button! Hit the button!"

"I'm trying!" Arthur snapped, overwhelmed by everything that was happening at once. He stumbled over to the button panel as the elevator swung precariously. He mashed the call button.

"Please state your emergency," a bored sounding voice rang out from the speaker.

"The bloody elevator's going to fall-" Arthur started heatedly, but the power abruptly cut off as the second-last cable snapped.

Francis scrambled to a corner in the cramped space. "When it falls, shield your head and make sure you don't break anything important," he advised Arthur, trying to stay calm despite the terrifying circumstances.

Arthur's green eyes widened. " _When_ it falls?"

The lights flickered and dimmed. In the utter silence and darkness that followed, they heard a single _snap._

Arthur frantically pressed himself into a corner. He felt nothing but pure, animalistic terror as the machine fell through the air, eerily silent. Arthur felt enclosed in the tiny box with another person taking up half the space. It was dark, he was trapped, he was scared, he was going to _die-_

There was an enormous crunching sound as the elevator slammed into the ground, six floors below. The last thing Arthur heard was Francis' gasp of pain before his own head collided with a piece of rubble smashed into the floor. With a sickening burst of white hot pain, a deep black filled Arthur's vision as he lost consciousness.

* * *

"-thur. Arthur!"

Arthur's groaned as his eyes fluttered open to darkness. He automatically tried to bring his hand up to his aching head, only to realize that it was pinned under something.

"Arthur, can you hear me?!"

There was that voice again. It was kind of annoying, to tell the truth. Arthur squinted his heavy eyes, wondering why it was so dark. Where was he, anyway? Whatever was pinning his arm down was really bothering him.

"Please, Arthur. Talk to me! I can see that you are awake, _cher._ Please tell me that you are okay."

"My...arm..." Arthur managed to choke out. His mouth felt sore.

"Arthur! Oh, I was so worried! When the elevator fell, you hit your head, and you have been out cold for at least half an hour. I feared you would not wake up..."

Arthur winced. Who was speaking to him, again? And what was he talking about...some sort of accident? That would explain the pain Arthur was feeling. "Arm," he rasped again.

The other man, whom he could not see due to the darkness, gasped sharply, presumably catching sight of the source of Arthur's troubles at the moment. "It's trapped under some rubble. Arthur, when the elevator fell, we crashed through the basement. Our momentum built up enough for us to get stuck in the floor. The elevator floor broke, and the pieces of stone that came up from under us smacked you right on the head. I guess your arm got trapped, too."

Arthur was beginning to feel angry. He couldn't quite remember who he was with in this elevator, or what had happened, but he did know that this man was getting on his nerves. "Will you just...stop... talking," he ground out.

The other man groaned apologetically. "Ah, _désolé,_ I tend to ramble when I'm nervous."

"Can you...get the bloody rock...off my arm?" Arthur growled, beginning to feel more aware. The pain in his head was unfortunately growing stronger the more he woke up.

"Of course, Arthur," the man said compliantly. He tried to pull the rock off of the injured appendage.

"Fuck," Arthur hissed as it dragged across his arm painfully. Finally, the other man got it off, and Arthur gently pulled it free from the rest of the rubble. He held it gingerly.

"Let me see," the man offered. In the darkness, he took hold of Arthur's arm.

Arthur yanked it back. He did not want this stranger manhandling him when he was so vulnerable. Unfortunately, the act of moving his arm so violently had extremely negative consequences. Arthur cried out as his arm erupted in pain.

"Arthur!" the man spoke sharply. "Stop moving; don't even try to sit up. Your arm is broken. You could permanently damage it if you screw around any more."

"Look," Arthur spat. "Who are you and why are you helping me? And how the hell did I end up in an elevator accident?"

The man was silent for a second. "Ah," he said finally. "It seems like we really _do_ have a problem."

"You think?" Arthur snarled. "My bloody arm is mangled, and my head feels like it's splitting open!"

"That knock on the head injured more than just your skull, _mon ami,_ " the man said apologetically. "You seem to have lost a few memories, as well."

Arthur was silent for a moment. He brought his other hand up to feel his head. When he took his hand away, it felt sticky and wet. "What's your name?" he asked quietly.

"You already know me, but I will reintroduce myself. I am Francis Bonnefoy."

Arthur's eyes were just beginning to adjust to the darkness. He looked at his hand, seeing it coated with a dark substance. "Francis, I'm bleeding a lot," he said, deadly calm.

He could just see the outline of Francis' eyes as they widened. "What? Where?" he demanded.

"My head." Arthur was feeling panic welling up inside of him. "The side of my head."

" _Merde,_ " Francis swore. He checked his pockets quickly. "Do you have a phone that I could use to call 911?"

Arthur had a vague feeling that he did have a phone, but had forgot it or something. "I think I forgot it. Do you?"

Francis shook his head. "Mine broke when we hit the ground." There was a rustling sound and a soft ripping, like he was taking off his jacket and tearing some cloth from it. "Here, press this against the cut. Head wounds are usually at lot more serious looking than they actually are, because they have the tendency to bleed heavily. Just keep an even pressure on it."

Arthur accepted the clothing. "Thanks," he said, pressing onto his temple with his good arm. "What about you?"

"What about me?" Francis asked absently.

"Don't you have any injuries?" Arthur asked, feeling a smidgen of concern for this man that had helped him. "After a fall like we apparently had, there's no way you came out unharmed."

"I'll be fine," Francis said firmly. "It's you we have to worry about. We have to put your arm in a sling to support it."

Arthur saw the dim figure fashion the rest of his jacket into a makeshift sling. "You will have to help me to get your arm in here," Francis told him softly. Arthur complied, the pain in his arm now exceeding the one in his head. He felt something soft go around his arm, and Francis leaned close to tie it around his neck. Arthur could see his face, right close to his. His eyes were a clear indigo.

Francis looked down into Arthur's eyes for a split second. He gave him a quick smile, then finished tying the knot and sat back again.

"Thank you," Arthur said quietly. "It doesn't hurt as much now."

"Of course, _mon ami,_ " Francis said. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"N-no, I think I'm okay. But are you sure you're-"

"I'm fine," Francis cut him off gently.

Arthur used his good arm to prop himself up a bit, so that he was in more of a sitting position, rather than a lying one. He continued to press the cloth against his head, which didn't hurt as much now. "Do you think anyone heard the elevator fall? They'll come to help us, right?" he asked tentatively.

"Of course they will," Francis comforted. "There is no possible way that no one heard that crash."

"Y-yeah," Arthur murmured. His eyes were beginning to feel heavy,m now that the adrenaline was draining out of his system. He yawned, then winced when it made the cut on his temple twinge.

"Arthur," Francis said sharply. "What are you doing?"

"I think...I might-" he cut himself off with another yawn- "...just go to sleep."

" _Non!_ " Francis barked. "If you go to sleep now, you are not going to be waking up! Arthur!"

Arthur grimaced. He intentionally moved his broken arm so that it sent a jolt of uncomfortable pain through him. "'M awake," he muttered.

Francis exhaled in a relieved sort of way. "Please don't scare me like that."

"Why do you care so much?" Arthur asked curiously. "Are we friends?"

Francis sighed. "We are neighbours at home and the office. You never really liked me much, because you think me a pervert. You enjoy shouting insults to me in our spare time." He chuckled a little. "I just wanted to be good neighbours, and friends, but I fear you have the wrong impression of me, and that is affecting your judgement."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Keep talking," he said suddenly. "It's coming back. The sound of your voice is doing something. Say more stuff about my life."

Francis smiled. "Every weekend, I accompany you on a trip to the hospital to visit two sick boys by the names of Alfred and Matthew. They see us as the parents they never had, and they would be extremely worried if they knew the situation we were in now."

Arthur furrowed his brow. "Why...can't...I remember?"

"It was a really hard hit," Francis said sadly. "I do hope you recover you memories, _mon cher._ "

Arthur rolled his head back. "Frenchhhh," he groaned. "How long have we been in here?" he asked, his voice slightly muffled.

Francis bit his lip. "About half an hour. They should find us soon."

As if on cue, there was a great pounding outside. A fist knocked on the door a few times. "Hey! Anyone in there?" a voice called.

"Yes! Two people!" Francis called back, relief evident in his voice.

"Hang tight!" the voice yelled. "We're going to get you out. The elevator went through the floor, so this might be a bit rough. Are you injured?"

"Yes," Francis said before Arthur could say anything. "One of us has a broken arm and a head injury."

"We called an ambulance," the voice told them. "Okay, brace yourselves, and try to protect wherever it hurts."

The entire machine shifted a bit to the side. Arthur scrambled up before he fell on his back, but jarred his arm in the process. He collapsed, clutching it.

Francis saw the urgency of the situation. He pulled Arthur up, trying to get him supported, but the elevator tipped again, and he lost his balance. They both crashed down, Arthur accidentally landing right on Francis' chest.

"Ow!" Francis hissed, almost inaudibly.

Arthur, however, was close enough to hear it. "What? Are you hurt?" he asked frantically.

Francis gave a dry chuckle. "It is certainly hard to pretend I'm not when your full weight is on my poor ribs."

Arthur desperately tried to get off. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," he gasped.

The elevator tilted again. The ceiling was now becoming the floor, but that unfortunately meant that the floor was now going to be the ceiling. The floor that still had many clumps of rubble on it.

Francis saw what was going to happen a split second before it did. The large, jagged piece of metal slid dangerously across the floor as the lift leaned one more time. It briefly left the floor, becoming a dangerous projectile, and it was headed straight for Arthur.

"Arthur, watch out!" Francis called urgently, but knew it would be too late unless he took action. He scrambled to a hands-and-knees position, then launched himself at the smaller man, pushing him out of the way.

Arthur hit the wall painfully, but when he opened his eyes, he saw that he was clearly the luckier of the two, as Francis had taken his place. The Frenchman was out cold, the large metal piece having hit him hard enough to knock him out.

Arthur nearly growled in frustration at the pure selflessness of the person that he barely remembered. He beat his fist on the elevator wall angrily. "Oi! Be more careful!"

"What happened?" shouted the voice.

"You're shifting all the damn debris in here! It just hit one of us and knocked him out, you idiot!"

"Sir, please calm down. We'll have the door open and you two to the hospital shortly."

As he spoke, a crack of light shone through.

"We have the door open, Captain!" a younger-sounding voice said excitedly.

"Took you damn long enough," a different voice grumbled.

Arthur shielded his eyes as the door creaked open, two people pushing the sliding parts apart.

"Don't worry, sir!" one said. He had a curl on the side of his head, and he spoke with an Italian accent. "We'll have you out of there in no time!"

"Don't just stand there and talk, dammit!" the other person snapped. He had a similar curl and looked like the other's older brother. "Get the stretchers!"

The person who had first spoken to Arthur and Francis climbed in, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry for them," he told Arthur, simultaneously checking his injuries. "They botched the extraction. I deeply apologize for any pain they may have inadvertently caused you two. What are your names?"

"Arthur," he muttered. "And that's Francis." He pointed at Francis.

"My name is Ludwig and I am a doctor. You will both live, don't worry," the man said. He checked Francis over quickly, running his hand over his chest, checking for injuries. "Though this man has a few broken ribs. If this took much longer, he would have been permanently damaged."

Arthur scowled. "He said he wasn't hurt."

Ludwig frowned. "He was probably trying to keep you calm."

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut. It was probably because of himself, he realized. He had started panicking and Francis had ignored his own injuries for Arthur's sake.

"Dammit, Feliciano, can't you do anything right?" The elder brother's voice rang out angrily. "Bring the stretcher over _here!_ "

Ludwig closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Suddenly, he exploded. "LOVINO! FELICIANO! WE HAVE INJURED INDIVIDUALS, SO GET YOUR _HINTERN_ OVER HERE OR I'LL DRAG YOU MYSELF!"

Feliciano immediately burst out crying. "Ve~! I'm sorry, Captain!"

"Shut up!" Lovino snarled. He hauled the stretchers over quickly. "Have the damn things," he grumbled.

Ludwig glowered at the two. "Put them on the stretchers," he commanded. " _Gently._ "

Lovino stuck out his tongue at Ludwig when he thought the captain wasn't looking. He picked his way into the wreckage and took Arthur's legs. "Grab his front, Feli," he ordered.

Feliciano did so, his weak hold not comforting Arthur in the least. With much effort and some jostling, they got Arthur onto the stretcher, where a few more doctors waiting started examining him and asking questions.

Lovino and Feliciano disappeared back inside the ruined elevator to get Francis, who still showed no signs of waking up.

A doctor shone a torch in Arthur's face. "Sir, can you give us a list of your known injuries?" she asked.

Arthur winced. "A broken arm, a bash to the temple, and...I lost some of my memories, I think."

The doctor shook her head. "You're lucky that you're not as bad as the other man in there with you. Listen."

The doctors examining Francis listed out his injuries out loud. "Broken ribs, maybe a punctured lung, and a fractured skull."

Arthur felt worse with every word. He cursed himself for being so weak and complaining while Francis was suffering much worse injuries than him.

"Try to relax, Mr. Arthur," Ludwig told him. "Everything's going to be all right now."

Arthur nodded slightly, before wincing at a jolt of pain in his head. As he was carried into the ambulance, another jolt to his head made him pass out.

When Arthur awoke, he was in an unfamiliar bed in what looked like a hospital room. He lay still for a second, straining to remember why he was here. Then it hit him.

The elevator falling. Losing some memories. His injuries...Francis' selflessness.

Arthur winced. Now that he could remember everything, he felt even worse. He hadn't been a very nice neighbour to Francis in all the years he had known him, so what had he done to deserve the Frenchman's help?

Arthur vowed to be nicer to Francis from now on. He recalled what the man had said: _"I fear you have the wrong impression of me, and it is affecting your judgement."_

Well... He had just kind of assumed that the Frenchman was a pervert from the way he acted. But, as much as Arthur hated to admit it...he was wrong.

"Mr. Kirkland?" A nurse poked her head into the room. "Ah, you're awake."

She walked into the room. He raised himself slightly on the bed, feeling his arm, now in a cast, protest stiffly. "Hello, miss. May I ask, how is the other man that came in here with me?"

She smiled gently. "He is well on his way to making a full recovery, as are you."

Arthur bit his lip. "When can I see him?"

She checked her clipboard. "You should be discharged in a week or so. You can see him then."

Arthur relaxed on the bed, blowing out a breath. "Thank you," he told the nurse.  
She nodded. "I'll be back to check on you in a bit. Try to rest." She exited the room.

Arthur closed his eyes. He resolved to treat his neighbour with more respect, and maybe even start being...nice to him. Yes, all it took was a life-threatening accident to get Arthur to change his ways. He really was stubborn. But still...it was nice to have someone who cared.

* * *

 _A/N: Crappy ending is crappy. I don't own Hetalia. Arrivaderci!_


	2. Epilogue

_I realised that this needed a wrap-up. The story didn't quite tie itself up with a nice little bow, so to speak. Here's the short epilogue to finish it off._

* * *

A few weeks after the incident, Arthur pushed his way through the doors of the hospital. It was the weekend, and he was paying his usual visit to Alfred and Matthew.

"Hello, Dr. Ludwig," he greeted, seeing the familiar face. Ludwig glanced up briefly and nodded a hello.

"Nice to see you out and about," the doctor commented, checking his clipboard surreptitiously while trying to maintain eye contact.

Arthur chuckled. "Yes. Now, I see that you are busy, so I'll stop holding you up. Do you know if Francis has arrived yet?"

Ludwig shrugged. "You'll have to ask the receptionist," he said. "Well, see you."

"Goodbye," said Arthur, watching him walk away. He then made his way to the front desk.

"Ah, hello, Mr. Arthur!" the receptionist, a Hungarian friend of his, exclaimed. "Here to see the boys again?"

"Yes, thank you," Arthur agreed. "But, Elizabeta, have you seen Francis? He wasn't at his house when I left mine to come here."

Elizabeta pursed her lips, thinking. "I haven't seen him, though I only arrived here about ten minutes ago. He might already be with the boys."

"Alright. Thank you for your help." Arthur shook her hand warmly and turned to trudge up the stairs. His arm was still in a sling, but it was due to come off in a week or so. Arthur didn't complain, however, because he knew that Francis had worse injuries, and he sure wasn't whining.

When he got to the third floor, where Alfred and Matthew's room was, he paused outside their door. Listening, he could hear Alfred laughing.

Arthur knocked on the door lightly with his good hand. The voices hushed, and a very familiar voice called, "Come in!"

Arthur swung the door open, and in spite of himself, grinned. Francis was sitting next to Matthew, who was clutching his polar bear toy, looking healthier than usual, thankfully. Alfred had jumped up excitedly, and was now running over to hug him.

"Artie!" shouted Alfred, burying his face into Arthur's midsection.

"Watch the arm, there's a good lad," Arthur laughed as he took Alfred in a one-armed embrace. Looking up at Matthew, he said warmly, "You look very bright today, Matthew. How have you two been?"

"We missed you guys!" Alfred shouted. "Why didn't you come last time or the time before that?"

"We were unable to, _cher_ ," Francis said, indicating the few bandages still swathing his person.

Arthur turned his attention to the Frenchman. "Why did you leave without me? We could have carpooled here, you know."

"I was already in the neighbourhood," Francis said absently. "Sorry, Arthur."

Before Arthur could respond, Matthew spoke up. "So what happened? Why do you both have bandages?" he asked quietly.

Alfred nodded furiously. "Yeah, tell us!"

Arthur sat down on Alfred's bed, setting the child down next to him. "Why don't you ask Francis?" he said. "I would like to hear his version of the story, myself."

Matthew and Alfred turned to Francis with pleading faces. " _Sil vous plait?_ " Matthew said desperately.

Francis chuckled. "Well, I suppose I can't say no now," he said fondly. "I warn you though, it is not an enjoyable story."

"Don't worry!" Alfred said proudly. "If Mattie gets scared, I'll save him! I'm the hero, after all!"

"Alright," Francis relented. "We were in an elevator crash."

Alfred's eyes widened. "Awesome!" he squeaked.

"No," Francis told him. "Not 'awesome'. That is the reason we could not come and see you. We were too injured."

Matthew clung to Francis' arm. "Are you okay now?" he whispered.

Francis shifted slightly. "Nothing time won't fix, _mon petit._ "

Arthur frowned. "Francis was much more injured than me. But he concealed it."

Alfred jumped up. "Are you the hero too?!"

Francis smiled. "I was just trying to help Arthur."

"But why?" Arthur burst out. "Please tell me why! You've avoided the question, but we're all curious now. Tell me _why_."

Francis sighed. "Isn't it obvious?" he asked, gazing out the window.

Alfred looked up at Arthur, who looked angry. "I think Artie's mad! You better tell him, Francis!"

"Yes," Arthur added. "Let's say it's _not_ obvious, and I need you to explain it to me."

"Well," Francis began, "I did tell you that I wished to become better friends with you. You had the wrong impression of me, _non?_ The only thing bringing us together was visiting the boys."

"So you hid your injuries because of that?" Arthur said, still not getting the point.

"How dense can you get?" Francis chuckled. "I _care_ about you, Arthur."

Arthur blinked, taken aback. "What?"

Francis stroked Matthew's hair absentmindedly. "We are like parents to these boys, yes?"

"Yes..." Arthur said slowly, accepting another spontaneous hug from Alfred.

Francis shook his head. "I see I will have to say it bluntly. _Je t'aime_ , Arthur."

Arthur knew enough French to understand exactly what Francis was saying. A blush spread across his face. "W-what?" he gasped. "But you-"

"Can't you see what's right in front of you?" Francis asked sadly, standing up and offering his arm to Mathew, who grasped it. The Frenchman helped the boy up, and walked to the door. "But I cannot do anything about it. After all, love is something you can't force on others. Now, _Mathieu_ and I are going for a little walk."

They exited without another word.

Alfred stared at Arthur, who still had a look of shock and embarrassment. "C'mon, Artie, even _I_ could tell that he likes you!" Making a kissy face, he sang, "Francis and Arthur, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

"Hush, Alfred," Arthur ordered. "Let's find your brother and Francis. I need to...talk to him."

"Sure thing!" Alfred sang, skipping out of the room, Arthur following just behind.

Unfortunately, they couldn't find the two until they walked back to the boys' room in defeat. There they found Matthew and Francis had already returned. Bidding Alfred and Matthew goodbye, they walked out of the hospital, Arthur saying a quick goodbye to Elizabeta.

Francis accepted the offer for a ride home from Arthur. The trip was mostly spent in silence, though Arthur had a million thoughts and questions running through his head, none of which he could find the voice to say out loud.

When they arrived at their houses, Francis exited the car quietly. "Thank you for the ride, Arthur."

"Look, Francis..." Arthur desperately wanted to say something, _anything_ , that would dispel this awkward air.

" _Non_ , you do not have to speak. I get it." Francis turned away sadly.

Suddenly, Arthur knew what to do. Before Francis could move, Arthur lunged out of the car and pulled Francis into a hug.

They stood like that, stunned into silence. Francis didn't move. He was shocked. Did this mean that Arthur returned his feelings?

He tentatively wrapped his arms around the Briton, feeling at peace.

Arthur half-smiled. Maybe this would work out after all.


End file.
